Withering
by Nandelle
Summary: Harry Potter's under a lot of stress and Draco's taking advantage. DracoHarry fic that takes place during the Goblet of Fire.
1. Words and Kisses

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at Draco/Harry fanfiction; indeed my first attempt at any sort of Harry Potter fanfiction. Because of that, I would appreciate reviews. I'm not sure exactly how long I'll continue this; it may go all the way up to the fifth book or it may just stop when I feel like I can't torture the poor boys anymore.

This takes place during the Goblet of Fire.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in the following nor do I own the events, the storyline, or the ideas behind the original book. All that credit goes to J.K.R.; I'm just playing with them, not making money.

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Part One. Words and Kisses.

Harry had finished eating before Hermione and Ron, seeing as he hadn't much of an appetite. The Great Hall was fairly quiet, filled only with the sleepy talk of students that had risen early on a Saturday and the droning sounds of eating. The ceiling boasted a misty azure swirl around a watery sun; Harry supposed that it would be cold out on the Hogwarts grounds again. As students began to come into the hall in greater numbers, Harry stood, stretching, and looked down to Ron and Hermione.

'I think I'm going to head to the library,' he said, gaining a small twitch of a smile from Hermione and the clang of a fork against a half-cleared plate from Ron. Catching the look of disbelief bordering on betrayal on Ron's face, he quickly added, 'Just to, you know, see if I can't find a book to help figure out that egg.'

Ron still seemed to be in a state of disbelief though he apparently found this explanation more suitable than any other reason Harry might have to go to the library. 'You've got ages to work on that egg,' he mumbled around a mouthful of food, having recovered his fork.

Harry felt a vague pang of guilt for lying, he hadn't planned on spending any time dwelling on his egg and its horrible shriek and highly doubted that any of the dusty, manky old books in the Hogwarts Library would hold an immediate answer to what a shrieking golden egg meant. He had held a flicker of hope that he might run into Cho; he knew she spent a good deal of time in the library and perhaps this morning would be the one that left Cho without her typical gaggle of friends. He could maybe screw up the courage to ask her to the Yule Ball, though, like the egg, he placated the writhing snakes in his belly with the echo of Ron's statement; it was ages before the Yule Ball. 'I'll meet you two back up in the Common Room, then.'

Without lingering to give Hermione a chance to jump on the idea of her joining him in the library, Harry turned and made his way out of the Great Hall, ignoring the sparse flashes of green and sniggers that signified a group of students still wearing their 'Potter Stinks' badges. He had gotten used to them almost to the point of wishing Malfoy would come up with something new.

Harry didn't pay much attention to the corridors or the people within them as he neared the library; his head was too full of the ever-present threat of the second task. Despite feeling temporarily more at ease than he had about the first task (after all, he still had months to figure out his clue), he couldn't shake the pressure. His success in the first task had a lot to do with nerves and luck; he doubted if he would be able to use his Firebolt for any more tasks in the tournament.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't immediately hear the voices just behind him. When he did register that a group of people was behind him, talking loud enough for him to hear, it took a moment longer for him to recognize the voices as belonging to a pack of Slytherins, including Malfoy.

A bit more rushed than he had intended, Harry lengthened his stride and turned into the entryway of the library, slipping into the first row of books that he came to. He picked a book at random from the shelf and held it ready to hide his face in case the Slytherins came inside. As he expected, the voices didn't dim; it seemed the group had stopped just outside the library doors.

Malfoy's cold, drawling voice piped above the others, 'Go on, go on; I won't be long.' Harry's stomach lurched with a sudden flood of anger for the boy. 'Why don't you two,' Harry had a swift vision of Goyle and Crabbe turning to Malfoy, brows heavy with the effort of listening, 'get a start on my transfiguration homework?' There was a pause, then, 'On second thought… Just leave it. Don't want the Griffyndor Hag to mark me down for your stupidity.' There was a spatter of chuckles before Malfoy continued, 'Just go on to the Common Room. I'll catch you up.'

Then the voices faded into the walls and Harry was left clutching a book and too absorbed in listening to realize that Malfoy had already strode inside. Harry moved to turn away, to avoid Malfoy's detection and insults, but the other boy had already spotted him.

All leg and smirk, Malfoy swaggered toward Harry, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks and regarding Harry with that wretched, pompous look he always wore when he was feeling particularly nasty. 'Well, it's Potty without his Weasel.' He muttered, cold voice pitched low enough to avoid the librarian's attention.

'Shove off, Malfoy,' Harry spat back, his eyes blazing behind the barrier of his glasses. His anger had been barely in check, lately; the stress of the tournament was eating away most of his patience.

Draco glanced to the book in Harry's hands, looked back to Harry's furious features, 'Bit early in the day for studying, isn't it?' There was a note of suspicion in the boy's tone, though Harry wasn't sure what founded it.

'Bit early to pick a fight, too,' Harry replied, his own voice biting out the words, his teeth clenching when he stopped speaking.

Draco merely shrugged, narrowed eyes coursing along the shelves of books before resting back on Harry, 'I only wanted a word, Potter.' He tilted his head slightly, his smirk somewhat diminished though that infuriatingly superior look remained. 'What's that you're reading?'

Harry very much doubted that all the Slytherin wanted was a word but he didn't have time to respond before the question came, jarringly random. He looked down to the cover of the tome he was carrying, reading the title out loud, his voice still terse, '_An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_.' He looked back up to Malfoy's face, 'What word do you want?'

'Haven't decided yet,' he said, bringing a hand from his pocket to push a few strands of platinum blonde hair from his face. Harry was suddenly struck by the lack of Slytherin meat shields. Draco rarely did anything potentially threatening (such as talking to Harry) without Crabbe, Goyle, or a throng of his peers.

Tossing his head, the vague surprise ebbing away as quickly as it had appeared, Harry flung his arms to his sides, the book still clutched by whitened fingers, 'Look, I haven't got the time to play your little game, _Malfoy_,' he flung the name from his mouth as if it pained him, 'Just take your word and piss off.'

There was a moment where Harry thought Draco might just turn and leave right then. But only a moment. Draco hesitated, his eyes darting around the two of them, before he reached out and grabbed hold of the wrist not attached to _An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_ and tugged Harry closer, taking a step forward at the same time. All in the same, flowing motion, he angled his head and pressed his mouth against Harry's. It was a soft touch of lips, a gentle pursing of a kiss to counter the aching grip that the Slytherin had over Harry's wrist.

Before Harry could register what had happened, could think to pull away or shout, Malfoy had already released him and taken a step back, 'Suit yourself.' And then he was disappearing around the edge of the row of books and out of the library, his step a little lighter.

Harry watched him go, stunned to immobility. His hand lifted from his side and his fingertips settled over his lips, which were tingling strangely. His fingers lowered slightly and his tongue slid over his bottom lip, curiosity rearing its ugly head before he could think to stop. Coming to his senses, he squeezed his eyes shut and ran his fingers over his mouth, wiping away the imagined taste of Draco's kiss and the tingling sensation it left behind.

He replaced _An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_ on the shelf and turned his attention back to the spines of the other books, searching for something potentially useful. While the muddled words of titles slipped into his head, his mind was whirling with what had just happened and he had to reread several titles as a result before completely understanding the order of letters.

There was little guilt in neglecting the shelves of books after a few moments seeing as he hadn't initially intended to look for one in the first place. He started back to the common room empty handed; he hadn't even ran into Cho, but he had been too long as it was. He needed to get back to the Common Room quickly if he wanted to avoid any unnecessary questions from Ron and Hermione. With his thoughts replaying that awful, seconds-long kiss again and again, he hurried up the staircases, through the passage behind the tapestry, up more staircases, and came finally to the fat lady where he panted out, 'Balderdash.'

The portrait swung open and he clambered into the Common Room, glad to find it mostly empty. Ron looked up from the scroll he had been working on and pushed it aside into a pile of his schoolbooks, gaining a disapproving look from Hermione. 'What took you, Harry? We've been waiting so long that Hermione made me start on that scroll for Snape.'

Harry dropped himself into an armchair near to Ron and Hermione, avoiding their eyes. 'Couldn't find any decent books,' only a half-lie; he hadn't been able to find anything decent at first glance when he hadn't planned on even looking. More to give himself something to look at other than the carpeting, Harry pulled one of the schoolbooks on the table closer to him and opened it to a random page, staring at the words and struggling to ignore the two sets of eyes on him.

Hermione's voice was the first to recover the dialogue, 'Are you alright?' He didn't look up; instead he trained his eyes even more intently over the page of the sprawled tome. When he didn't reply, she pressed him again, 'What is it?'

'Nothing,' he said, 'I'm fine.' To hold up pretenses, he turned a page of the book and continued to stare.

Hermione lifted her eyebrows, pushed a bit of bushy hair behind one ear, and glanced to Ron with something like concern floating across her features, 'That book is upside down, Harry.' She tugged on the corner of the book, angling it right-side-up for Harry, 'And… it's my Arithmancy book.'

He closed his eyes, pulled his glasses from his face, and rubbed his eyes vigorously before replacing his glasses and finally looking up to Hermione, suddenly very glad that she and Ron didn't know Legilimancy. 'Nothing's wrong; I'm just tired, is all.'

'Have you been having nightmares again?' Hermione asked at once, her eyes suddenly stern as if the idea of him having bad dreams and not telling her was the same as breaking a law.

Harry furrowed his brow, startled slightly at the sudden change of temperament, 'Er, no.' He looked to Ron, pleased to see that the redhead shared the same bewildered look. 'No nightmares.'

Hermione bit her lower lip, her doubt showing plainly, 'Are you sure? I mean, it's one thing not to tell us, but if something's not right, you should at least,' her voice dropped a pitch, 'Tell Sirius. Or go to see Dum-'

'Really!' Ron snapped, snatching his Divination book from the stack of texts and pulling it onto his lap, 'If Harry says he's not having nightmares then he isn't. If he says nothing's wrong, then nothing's wrong.' Scowling, he leaned into the back of the chair and leered into the open face of the book.

Harry filled suddenly with fondness and appreciation for Ron. He shrugged at Hermione, whose face was twisted in a wounded, angry sort of way, and began rummaging through the leaves of parchment on the table for his divination chart, the scene with Draco in the library temporarily chased from his mind.

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Yay, end of part one. Let me know if you enjoyed this, it'll help me write more. I appreciate criticism but if you want to flame me, go right ahead. 


	2. Wands and Kisses

Author's Note: Part two of _Withering_. I would again like to encourage comments/reviews/critcism/flames and also say that if you notice any sort of errors in spelling, sentence structure, tense or voice, please let me know. I'm fairly sure all of the structural mistakes have been corrected, though; or at least I hope as much.

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Part Two. Wands and Kisses.

Later that evening, the image returned to be replayed in his head, and Ron and Hermione had both noticed the distant sort of glazed look he wore and were voicing their concern. The thought of recounting what happened to his friends made the constant squirm of snakes in his belly turn acid-hot with embarrassment and what felt like shame. His cheeks threatened to burn madly at the thought of verbalizing what had happened. Just the same, he knew that he wouldn't be able to focus on the task if he didn't get this out of his head and he knew that telling someone – someone that he wouldn't have to see every day afterwards and be reminded by the fact that they knew – would help.

Still, it took a few days to pass before he worked up the nerve to think through a letter to send Sirius. This move had largely been influenced by the fact that Ron and Hermione, while they weren't asking him if he felt alright anymore, kept looking at him in a way that voiced their concern just as well as words. It didn't help that they had some of their classes with the Slytherins; Harry was forced to see Draco every day, though the other boy seemed to have forgotten that they had an awkward moment only days prior.

When he told Ron and Hermione that he was writing to Sirius, the looks of worry subsided a little and turned into curiosity over what actually _was_ bothering Harry. The curiosity was tolerable, though. Harry probably wrote fifteen versions of the same letter over the course of three hours in the common room after everyone else had went off to bed before deciding on one that he felt would work well enough.

_Dear Sirius,_

_I've been working on the clue for the second task. I shouldn't have any trouble with it, if Hermione is helping. I do have to find a dance partner for the Yule Ball. I'm beginning to think I prefer the Horntail over girls._

_There is something that I wanted to talk to you about, but I don't think it's a good idea to write it down. I was wondering if we could talk face to face again. I'm sending the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend with the letter, but if you'd rather talk like last time, send me an owl saying when I should be in the common room, and that'll work too._

_Harry._

He stared at the letter after he had written it and considered sending it first thing in the morning, as he had no classes, and turning in to bed. His stomach lurched at the thought of running into someone as he went to the owlery in the morning and asking what he was sending. He would have to send it tonight.

After retrieving his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map from his room and tucking the letter into his back pocket, Harry clambered through the portrait hole and stopped just outside. He muttered '_Lumos_,' to light the end of his wand, narrow beams of light illuminating the piece of parchment in his hand. Speaking even more quietly, he touched the tip of his wand to the parchment, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.' Once the map had fully appeared over the bit of parchment, he scanned the corridors for signs of Filch or Mrs. Norris and began towards the owlery.

He would check the map periodically as he made his way through the castle, occasionally stopping and waiting for the little dot labeled Mrs. Norris to be far out of earshot, or to be sure that Peeves the Poltergeist wasn't about to leap out of a nearby classroom or adjacent corridor. Keeping to his cautious pace, he arrived at the owlery without incident.

Sweeping the cloak from his shoulders and stuffing it into a pocket of his pajamas, he held his lit wand out and began to scan the rafters for a sign of Hedwig. Most of the owls were gone, whether on deliveries or hunting he wasn't sure, but Hedwig it seemed had come in early. When he murmured her name, her massive amber eyes gleamed towards him and she lighted down from the rafters to settle on his shoulder.

Reaching up to stroke her faintly, he removed the letter from his back pocket and attached it to the leg that she held out automatically. 'Sorry it's so early, Hedwig,' he whispered, accepting a gentle nip from her beak on his index finger, 'Just make sure Sirius gets this.'

She hooted softly, a sound he took in the affirmative, and with a slight pressure in his shoulder she took off, beating her wings to propel her through one of the open windows that lined the walls of the owlery. Harry watched her go until the night had swallowed her up, then turned to leave, pulling the Marauder's map back into his sight and scanning the floor he was on. There were a few pacing little dots but nothing too close to him, and so he stepped easily back into the corridors and draped the invisibility cloak back over his form.

With Hedwig flying off to find Sirius, Harry felt a great weight beginning to lift form his chest. The awkward moment in the library seemed very distant now that he was able to expect some sort of consolation, some kind of guidance on the matter. Not that he had decided what to tell Sirius. Harry wasn't sure if he would be able to, but it would be good to see his godfather again, regardless.

Lured into a sense of security by the lack of sound in the castle as he made his way back to the Common Room, Harry gave the map one last look (Filch was on the floor below him, Mrs. Norris on the floor above, but at the opposite end of the castle, and a few little dots were walking along the edges of the castle) and tapped it with his wand, muttering, 'Mischief managed.' This plain bit of parchment he folded up and stuck into the pocket that he had stuffed his cloak into earlier. And, as the moon had risen to the point that it sent silvery streaks of light into the corridors, reminding Harry vaguely of the feeble wisps of his first attempts at a Patronus, he extinguished the light on his wand with a whispered, 'Nox.'

The walk back to the dormitories went faster without having to check the map every few passages or stairwells and he felt safe enough beneath the cloak. When he reached the floor that his common room was on, he actually slipped the cloak from his shoulders and stuffed it into a pocket with the map, there were only a couple corridors left, two more stairwells, and he would be back in the warm safety of the Gryffindor Common Room.

As he turned into the last corridor, he found himself facing another student. Harry was suddenly very aware of the amount of noise he had been making and of just how exposed he was without the invisibility cloak. With a start, he saw that the student had, in a fit of surprise, drawn their wand and had pointed it at him, was sucking in a breath to shout an incantation…

Harry took a step back, lifting his own wand in retaliation, blurting out the first spell that came into his head as he did so. He shouted '_Reducto_!' just as the other said, '_Diffindo_.' Harry's spell hit the other student full in the chest, sending him sprawling backward to land against a banister where he slumped onto the floor. There was a sudden hot sear of pain that bloomed along Harry's cheek where the other's spell hit him but he ignored it, finally recognizing the other student as they stirred out of the heap they had fallen in.

Draco began pushing himself up from the cold embrace of the floor, shaking his head a little, seemingly dazed. Stunned, Harry took a few steps toward the other boy, his wand still pointing down at him though he didn't think he would need to use it again. 'What are you doing?'

Malfoy gathered himself back up to his feet, recovering his wand that had clattered onto the floor when he fell, and looked back at Harry with a sneer, a slow trickle of blood oozing from a cut on his brow where his head had struck the banister. 'I don't think that's any of your business, Potter.' Malfoy snapped, his cool voice somewhat more strained than it had been. He pocketed his own wand, glowering darkly at Harry, 'Run along, then. I'm sure Weasley's missing you.' Wincing faintly, he touched his fingertips to the cut on his brow to survey the damage.

A detestable squirm of curiosity hit Harry's gut – he wanted to know what Malfoy had been doing out of bed, especially since the other seemed so defensive on the matter. And beneath that, lurking just beyond words, always on his mind… the incident in the library. 'No,' Harry said, a little more defiantly than he had intended. Malfoy stared at him, one pale brow raised above his blank gaze. 'No,' he repeated, still gripping his wand, 'I want you to tell me what you meant by it.'

There was a long pause that was filled only with the gentle sounds of drawing breath before Draco answered, 'What I meant by what?'

Harry gritted his teeth and made a small noise of frustration that came out sounding like a growl, 'What you meant by- by the other day.' Draco tilted his head slightly, still staring blankly at Harry. 'The other day in the library,' he prompted, feeling his blood thicken with anger to stain his cheeks a shade of red.

A vague look of comprehension flickered across Draco's face, made obvious but the slow curl of his mouth into a smirk, 'Oh. That.' He glanced down the corridor, steely eyes soaking up what bit of moonlight filtered in through the windows, 'I knew you were stupid, Potter, but this is ridiculous. Why does one person typically kiss another?' The anger and color quickly drained from Harry's face, replaced by a look of blatant shock. Malfoy laughed softly, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, 'Or maybe I only did it to drive you mad.' His smirk widened into a grin, a cheery gesture ruined by the cruel haughtiness of it, 'Tell me, Potter; did it work?'

The look of utter shock and bewilderment sidled back into anger and Harry found his hands clenching back into fists. He wanted to lie and tell Malfoy that he hadn't even thought of the kiss until that moment, wanted to hit the Slytherin across the face, wanted to slip quietly off to the common room to be alone with his shame, but he couldn't find the words to use and his body seemed only capable of turning an embarrassing shade of magenta.

Draco laughed again, a gently, airy sound, but ceased abruptly when another noise trickled down the long corridor. A voice, tattered and rasping, leapt hollowly around the corner to meet their ears, 'We'll catch Peeves next time, my sweet. Dumbledore can't refuse to throw him out if we catch him at it again.'

Harry met Draco's gaze for an instant in which understanding flickered across both countenances; he didn't need to think to unfurl his invisibility cloak and throw it around himself again, taking a step back to press against the wall, out of the middle of the corridor. Draco had seemed to forget his slight injury and sprang forward just as Harry stepped back. The glow from Filch's lantern was eking around the corner now, illuminating Draco as he threw an arm out; Harry felt fingers against his thigh, groping unceremoniously for the part in the cloak, a hand fluttered past his chest, and a moment later Draco was beneath the cloak, pulling himself snug next to Harry.

There was no time to protest. Draco had pressed against him beneath the cloak just as Filch shuffled around the corner, rasping moistly, Mrs. Norris darting around his heels. The cat turned her eyes instantly to Draco and Harry but Filch didn't seem to notice the direction or the meaning of her stare. Harry squirmed, his face burning hotly as Draco pinned him bodily, pressing Harry's back hard into the stone wall; he was tingling faintly where the other boy's hands had touched him.

Filch paused, the lantern's unsteady light throwing sharp relief to his pouched face, each pockmark and scar cut deeper by the shadows, his eyes lost in the dark holes of his face. His head was tilted slightly; he seemed to be listening for something. Harry tightened his jaw and struggled not to breathe, feeling Draco's frame tense against him, but after a moment Filch simply continued along, throwing suspicious looks up and down the hall, mumbling to himself. Mrs. Norris lingered in front of the boys but when Filch made no move to turn back she hurried off to wind between his shuffling feet again.

When the sound of Filch had faded into the walls, Harry struggled to move out from beneath Draco's weight, 'Get off me, Malfoy,' he mumbled, drawing his hands up to try and push the other boy away. His face was still unbearably warm; he wouldn't be surprised if his cheeks had begun to glow.

Draco didn't move, though. Much to Harry's distress, Malfoy was staring at his face in vague surprise, his brow knitting delicately, 'Why are you blushing?'

Harry felt his cheeks throb with a fresh flush of embarrassment, the cut on his cheek blending subtly with the tone of his face. 'I'm not blushing,' he said abrasively, pushing hard against Malfoy, frustrated that he couldn't angle his wand enough to point at the other boy. 'Move.'

'What's the matter?' he drawled, his smirk slowly creeping back into his features, 'Afraid you might like it, Potter?'

He pushed Malfoy again, his jaw set with frustration, trying to ignore the tingling in his extremities, the feel of Malfoy's hands when he reached for the cloak, the touch of Malfoy's lips the week prior. He didn't like it. Harry wrenched his arm out from where it had been pinned against him and managed to point his wand at Malfoy's neck, 'Get. Off.'

Harry was pleased to see the vague tracings of fear play at the corners of Draco's smirk, though it did not reach into the meander of his cold voice, 'Relax, Potty. You won't want to sound too defensive or someone might think you're being a bit gay about it.' Draco teetered on the verge of pulling away, his breath mingling with Harry's, their faces inches apart… He angled his head toward Harry's wand, keeping his eyes over the other boy's features as he placed a thoughtful kiss on the side of the wand.

Draco grinned at the look of shock and confusion on Harry's face, ran a pallid finger along his unmarred cheek, and ducked out from beneath the invisibility cloak. He didn't look back as he strode down the corridor, hands tucked into the pockets of his bedclothes.

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And there's the second part. I hope you're all enjoying this so far. Again, reviews stimulate more writing so if you'd like to read more... nudge nudge, wink wink. 


	3. Wands and Curses

Author's Note: Well, here's the third installment. I do promise to explain some motivations, later. Or at least I'll try to explain them. I hope you enjoy this; it's my favorite part thus far. Thanks to all the people that have been reviewing; the time you take to comment really means a lot and hopefully it'll help me in writing fanfiction.

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Part Three. Wands and Curses.

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Harry. He hadn't put much more thought into the second task (after all, Ron was right; he still had ages to figure his clue out), he hadn't managed to ask Cho Chang to the Yule Ball, and he hadn't mentioned anything about Malfoy to Sirius. The pressure of Malfoy's actions had decreased, slightly. At least now he could tell himself that Draco was only trying to get to him and he would only be giving into Malfoy if he worried any more about it. Still, that didn't stop his mind from wandering.

He managed to get dates for Ron and himself just before the Ball, and saved himself the humiliation of being the only champion without a dance partner. Ron had successfully de-laced his dress robes though he doubted that Padma Patil would like the stray threads any better than lace. Parvati was rather more exuberant than Harry about the Ball; he really wasn't looking forward to dancing at all, much less in front of the whole school. He frowned as he wondered how he would have felt about dancing if he had been going with Cho. Thinking of Cho made his thoughts veer onto Cedric and each time this happened, a fresh surge of jealousy and useless anger would fill his veins and he would have to stop whatever it was he was doing and give the room he was in a good pace.

The ball itself went about as well as Harry had expected it to. Parvati seemed to be enjoying herself at least, though Harry had only danced with her the one time but the boys from Beauxbatons seemed to make up for Harry's lack of enthusiasm. His and Ron's stroll through the hedges full of couples had been enlightening but rather anti-climatic. He kept wanting to tell Ron something; he wasn't sure what exactly, but something.

The entire issue of Draco had been temporarily driven out of his mind by the events of the evening; he hadn't even flinched convulsively when he saw Draco with a rather frilly Pansy Parkinson on his arm at the ball. That had changed later in the evening, though. Ron and Hermione were starting in on a fresh row over Krum and the tournament, gaining momentum by the time they reached the first staircase out of the Great Hall, still clad in their dress robes. Hermione's furious, quavering voice contrasted horribly with the cool, sleek tones of her robes and the delicate knot of her hair was beginning to come undone. Ron, too, was clashing with his dress robes, but it was more due to the specific shade of scarlet he was turning against the maroon of his garb.

To avoid being dragged into the middle of the argument, Harry had hung back. Ron and Hermione hadn't seemed to notice his absence as they continued up towards the Gryffindor Common Room. He could hear their voices continue to rise and gain heat as they moved farther from him. He loosened the neck of his dress robes as he followed after the sounds of building rage, using the moments of solitude to mull over the evening.

'Still haven't learned not to wander the halls alone, Potter?' a sneering voice met him from behind and he spun around, nearly losing his balance with the speed of his motion. Malfoy's smirk grew at the action and he swaggered across the few feet that separated them. 'I'd think you would try to keep your fanclub close after the last time you went off on your own.'

Harry narrowed his eyes, noting absently that the top of Draco's dress robes was undone, diminishing the vicar-look he had bore throughout the Yule Ball. 'What are you doing up here? Your Common Room's not on this floor.' He found his fingers were threatening to curl into fists inside of his pockets and he suddenly wished that he had brought his wand with him.

Malfoy took another step toward Harry, 'I know where my Common Room is, idiot. I was looking for you.'

There was a moment of silence in which neither boy spoke. Draco looked just as calm and superior as always and Harry was struggling not to look surprised. He hadn't expected a straight answer out of Malfoy and if he had, he certainly hadn't thought he'd hear that Malfoy was trying to find him, Harry, in the corridors after the ball. He recovered after the passing of a few seconds, his tone betraying his growing curiosity. 'Why… were you looking for me?' he replied rather lamely, his form strung very tightly, his verdant eyes looking steadily at Malfoy.

Draco quirked a brow, taking yet another step closer, bringing their faces less than a foot apart. He was no longer smirking. 'My father rather hates you,' he said, veering wildly from the aim of the question, 'He hates Dumbledore as well,' he added as an afterthought. 'Everyone else, it seems, can't get enough of Patronus Potter,' he muttered, the look in his eyes caught somewhere between intense dislike and intrigue.

'Like I didn't already know that,' Harry said, feeling somewhat impatient. 'So you were looking for me,' he prompted, forcing his fists to uncurl, 'What did you want?'

Malfoy had moved a hand inside of his dress robes; Harry was sure that he was reaching for his wand. His own digits twitched at the end of his right hand, wishing horribly that he hadn't been so stupid as to leave his wand up in the Gryffindor Tower. Sure enough, when Draco's hand had emerged again, it was with a long, slender, lethal bit of wood, which was pointed rather lazily at Harry. 'I wanted to practice a curse,' he replied simply, regarding Harry with an indiscernible look.

Harry paused, taken aback, and suddenly felt a hot surge of shame for his surprise. Had he expected something else from Malfoy? Was he expecting Malfoy to expose the true meaning behind his actions (that kiss and that gesture, pinned beneath the invisibility cloak…) and to perhaps confess a set of feelings quite apart from hate? Yes; he had expected something else, but he wasn't sure if would have enjoyed what he thought might have happened. Before Harry had time to sort out these thoughts and make some sort of reply, whether the words that were already hovering on his tongue or through simply walking away, Malfoy had strengthened his grip on his wand and pointed it more steadily at Harry's chest.

There was a detached sort of look to the paler boy's face and without a sneer, smirk, or a twisted look of rage upon it, something haunted and frail leered out of it. Harry felt a jolt in his stomach when he realized what it was. Beauty. It seemed that Draco, when he wasn't wearing the sneering mask of his father, had taken after his mother in looks; his features were soft but not delicate, his nose was straight and well shaped, his lips were full and slightly pink, even as they parted to form a single word that Harry didn't hear.

'_Crucio_!'

The sudden, jarring pain of it brought Harry staggering to a wall where he clutched and leaned for support, stifling his cries with gritted teeth and bitten lips –he had sense enough to keep quiet and avoid Filch this time. Malfoy lifted his wand. The pain stopped. Harry didn't remember falling but he picked himself up from the nook of the floor and the wall just the same, trembling slightly, his scar throbbing unpleasantly.

Malfoy's face was still unreadable and Harry could taste blood in his mouth from a cut along the inside of his bottom lip. He realized that he was still leaning heavily against the wall when Malfoy moved forward to close the space between them. Harry flinched and tensed his muscles to spring away but he was a second too late; he succeeded only in moving far enough from the wall to have a dull snap of pain swell along his shoulder when Malfoy grabbed him by the neck of his robes and flung him back against the wall.

'You're sick, Malfoy,' Harry thought the words felt thin and watery as they left his mouth, his tone quavering very slightly. He tried to pull away but found Malfoy's grip on his dress robes had not weakened. '_Sick_.' He began to ball his hands into fists – he didn't need a wand to cause pain.

Before Harry could pull an arm back for a good, square punch on Malfoy's indifferent face, he felt the tip of the other boy's wand press into his ribs and the touch of slightly pink lips to his own, moving subtly as he whispered, '_Crucio.._.'

The pain this time, though Harry was somewhat braced for it, felt double. His insides had ruptured, his guts had hatched many legged, many headed, many fanged things that squirmed and thrashed around his chest and abdomen, tearing apart his innards, carving him hollow, scraping his insides ruthlessly. He was sure his scar was bleeding; it seared and the pain was slicing his head in two. His scar had surely split, revealing the glossy grey-white of his skull and the spongy spirals of brains. Held up by Malfoy's grip on his dress robes, Harry's body was convulsing, spasming, arching right up into Malfoy's slightly pink lips and screaming into them, screaming though he knew that Filch may hear, screaming though he knew that it was what Malfoy wanted, screaming because the pain could find no other way out of his body.

The wand lifted and again the pain vanished, leaving his form still strung and poised with the memory of it. Harry felt the hand release him and he did not, as he longed to, lend his weight to the supportive wall beside him and rather took a shaking step back, away from Malfoy. They looked at each other, the venom of hatred filling the verdant wells of Harry's eyes, cool indifference looking back at him from stormy orbs.

'_Honestly_!' came a curt, impatient voice that broke the stare by causing the two boys to look around for its source. Professor McGonagall, looking freshly changed from her Yule Ball garb, looked severely at them as she approached, wand raised and lit at the end, pointing toward them. 'Potter? And Malfoy?' she said with only a slight betrayal of surprise in her voice, 'What are the two of you doing in the corridors – the ball ended nearly two hours ago!' She looked between them, apparently unaware that an Unforgivable Curse had been preformed only moments prior.

Harry had opened his mouth to speak but didn't get the chance to. A growling voice sounded from the other end of the corridor, paired with a slightly foreboding _clunk_ against the stone floor, 'Got another two, Minerva? Good, good.' Mad-Eye Moody loomed for a moment just beyond reach of the light spilling from McGonagall's wand, a great lumpy shadow, a slight glint flickering madly; Harry knew that was caused by the sporadic movement of Moody's magical eye.

McGonagall pressed her mouth into a thin line, looking still more severe despite her overlarge bath robe and slippers, 'Yes, Alastor.' Her reply was short but not to the point of being biting, Harry suspected that she would rather return to bed than punish them. Mad-Eye fixed Draco and Harry with both of his eyes; Harry noted bitterly that Malfoy had managed to stow away his wand unnoticed. Her question seemed to have been driven out of her head for a moment later, McGonagall said rather harshly, 'I want the two of you to go straight to your Common Rooms.' They turned to comply, Harry's knees still shaking slightly beneath his weight, 'Professor Moody will know if you take any detours,' she added threateningly.

As Harry started up the stairs leading toward Gryffindor Tower, he could hear Moody talking to McGonagall in his low, grumbling tones, 'I just had to tell off another champion; that Cedric Diggory. He and Miss Chang were, ah,' Harry could almost see the lopsided mouth smiling humorously, 'Saying goodnight.' Harry was surprised to feel the lack of jealousy or resentment that he had experienced every time Cedric and Cho had come into sight together during the ball.

He still felt hollow and his limbs were still shaking when he climbed in through the portrait hole. There was a layer of sweat beneath his robes and, as the stone, fireless corridors had been freezing this perspiration into an icy film, he was very grateful for the dull, spitting fire in the Commom Room. He didn't look around when he entered; there were a few people scattered through the room, mostly couples lurking covertly in the darker corners but no one hailed him as the portrait closed behind him.

Ignoring the moist, happy sounds coming from the various corners of the Common Room, he dropped himself into a chair near to the fire, glad to see that the light had driven away most of the furtive couples, and extended his frigid hands toward the warmth. His fingers shook at the ends of his hands but he couldn't tell if it was from the shock of actually having been the victim of the Cruciatus Curse or because of the simmering anger in his veins. He could have – should have – said something to Professor McGonagall or Professor Moody about what had happened.

A small voice struggling for justification sounded in the back of his mind, _They didn't give me a chance to speak._ He frowned darkly into the flames; no, McGonagall had simply shooed him away to the tower, impatient as ever and Moody… Harry felt his frustration quiver angrily, bitterly even, Moody should have known! He should have seen what had happened; he hadn't missed anything else, so why, _why_ would he let something like the use of an Unforgivable Curse on Harry Potter slide so easily?

His hands had curled into fists, his fingernails digging dully into his palms, and he relaxed them, leaning back to place his hands over the arms of his chair. Whatever the reason, he wasn't going to say anything now. He felt a vindictive, sour sort of pride at not having said anything. Surely Malfoy was expecting him to tell, to reveal what an evil little prat he was, and Harry took twisted satisfaction in knowing that he hadn't said anything. He hadn't complained, he didn't whine or whimper to his teachers; he was going to deal with this on his own.

With a jolt, he realized that someone had stepped up beside his chair, someone was touching his shoulder; he whipped around, nearly sending himself toppling onto the floor. Hermione pulled her hand back quickly with a little sound of surprise but her brow was knit as elegantly as ever.

Harry had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as he leaned into the back of his chair, watching Hermione as she moved to take the chair opposite him. 'You and Ron had another row, didn't you?' he was rather pleased to hear that his voice sounded automatic and so calm, despite the uncomfortable twinge of his scar and the slightly sick feeling in his gut.

Hermione blinked, a vague flushing appearing in her cheeks though it was nearly invisible due to the warm darkness of the room and the insubstantial light of the flames. 'Well, yes. We did,' she regarded him for a moment as if expecting him to speak through her pause. He looked away. 'Oh, I'm sorry, Harry,' she was leaning forward slightly in her chair; he couldn't think of why she would be apologizing for fighting with Ron when the redhead had (Harry admitted this rather grudgingly) deserved it. 'I thought you were just behind us – I really did! But when we got back up here and Ron finally went up to the boy's dormitories, I realized that you weren't here…' he glanced back to her and the knit in her brow intensified.

'Oh, er-' he let the verdance of his eyes soak up the warmth from the flames, staring into the hissing embers, 'I didn't want to hear any more fighting so I fell behind in the Great Hall.'

There was a long pause, punctuated only but the rustle of cloaks and dress robes and the noises of sloppy kisses. 'That was over an hour ago, Harry…'

He had expected this. Careful to leave out anything that might embarrass him on the matter of Malfoy, he recounted what had happened in the corridor to Hermione, suddenly bothered by the fact that he would have to repeat the story to Ron, later.

When he had finished, she stared at him with narrowed, disbelieving eyes, his mouth pulled into a grim, taut line. 'Malfoy's disgusting,' she said promptly, shaking her head, allowing the smooth arrangement of her features to mirror her words, 'We always knew he was foul,' and her voice began to tremble, something in her eyes had ignited, 'Just a loathsome, pathetic, _ferreting _little prat.' She took in a steadying breath and reason returned to her though her eyes were still flashing, 'You did tell Professor McGonagall, of course. I'm sure she'll sort this out.'

There was a brief flare of guilt at this but the pride of not exposing his weakness through complaint in front of Malfoy scalded the shame and he was able to meet Hermione's gaze in full, 'I didn't tell her.' Her face lit again with disbelief and her lips were parting to protest, but words continued toppling out of Harry's mouth, 'I didn't tell her or Moody and I'm not going to! I wasn't about to let Malfoy know he had gotten to me; he wanted me to tell them! I'm not going to give Malfoy what he wants, Hermione!' He hadn't realized that he had gotten to his feet, that his voice was shaking with rage and he was on the verge of shouting though the sudden silence tugged him slowly back to his head.

He felt the curious gazes of the now quiet couples scattered through the room and looked down at Hermione as if daring her to contradict him. She seemed to have had enough of fighting for the night, however. 'I don't think it's a good idea to let this go unchecked, Harry,' she spoke quietly, 'But if you're intent on not telling anyone… that's up to you.' She gave a little sigh, her bushy hair following her as a separate entity as she turned and headed back up the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

Harry watched her go with a little frown tugging on his mouth, a little ashamed that he had raised his voice at her but words were irretrievable, once spoken, and he left them for another night's contemplation in the Common Room as he sulked up the stairs leading irresistibly to his four poster bed.

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And there it is. Part four is likely to take a little more time to upload but I'm hoping it'll be worth it. Again, I do appreciate reviews. Really! 


	4. Yet Another Kiss

Author's Note: This took longer to finish than I had anticipated. It's not because the quality of writing is any better than the previous sections or because I had a stroke of genius, plot wise. It's more because I mentioned to a friend of mine that I was putting in the scene with the bath and the egg, and they insisted that there be more… eh, interaction, between Cedric and Harry. Part Five will go more into Draco and Harry; this was just a slight deviation. Enjoy!

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Part Four. Yet Another Kiss.

'Hey – Harry!'

He turned his head to the sound of the voice to see Cedric crossing the courtyard to speak with him, his gray eyes alight with his own vigor, his hair scattering smoothly across his brow as a wintry breeze cut through the exposed courtyard. Harry felt a lurch of unjustified dislike in his gut but he arranged a pseudo-amiable look as Cedric approached. 'Yeah?' he kept his voice low and short, but Cedric kept grinning, oblivious of Harry's residual anger and envy over Cho.

'Can I have a word?' Harry nodded despite the unsettling reminder of Draco and the library. Cedric threw a glance to Ron but did not speak. Ron caught on after a moment of Cedric's purposeful silence and staring and he gave a shrug that attempted indifference before stalking over to where Harry could see Seamus and Dean talking.

With Ron having left Harry quite alone, Cedric touched a hand to Harry's upper arm, steering him a little away from a throng of students nearby; Harry twitched slightly at the touch but it went unnoticed by the older boy who had leaned in to speak in low, quiet tones. 'Listen; I wasn't able to thank you properly about tipping me off about the dragons, before,' he said, his brow knitting faintly.

Harry fought to keep his features indifferent, 'Yeah, it's fine. You would have done the same for me, I'm sure.'

The knit disappeared from Cedric's brow, replaced by a gentle, handsome arch, 'Exactly. You know the prefect's bathroom?'

Harry nodded dumbly, his eyes casting warily over Cedric's features. He couldn't imagine how thanking him could involve the prefect's bathroom.

'Well, it's not a bad place for a bath…' The smile on the older boy's face didn't falter and Harry could have sworn he caught a mischievous glint in his stormy eyes.

'Er, what?' He felt his heart hammering very fast, now. Was Cedric about to suggest something rather inappropriate? Why was he dropping his voice to such a low pitch? Did he perhaps think that Harry fancied him, rather than Cho? Just _how_ did Cedric plan on thanking him?

Cedric leaned in closer; Harry would have taken a step back but the hand on his arm remained, 'Look, the password's 'pine fresh.' Just… take your egg with you and… mull things over in the hot water.'

Harry continued to stare warily at Cedric, half expecting him to suggest, in that jovial, living voice, to meet him there at a certain time on a set evening. But that suggestion never came from Cedric. The older boy patted Harry's shoulder with a trace of concern writ upon his fair features, apparently satisfied now that he had returned the favor of tipping Harry off, and turned to walk away.

Watching Cedric's back, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of disappointment that was quickly stifled by the embarrassment at his own thoughts. He didn't want Cedric, he assured himself, adjusting the strap of his bag against his shoulder and looking around for Ron. He was just shaken over all the run-ins with Draco; it was making him paranoid.

He caught up to Ron just a moment later, waving jovially enough to avoid suspicion as Seamus and Dean who were turning to leave for the Great Hall. He and Ron were making their own, slower progress toward lunch though Harry suspected that if it had been just Ron, the pace would have been considerably swifter.

As they slipped back inside the castle from the courtyard, Ron nudged Harry hard in the side though it was unnecessary; Harry had seen the back of the white-blonde head as soon as they stepped inside. 'Shall I hex him from here, Harry?' Ron was already reaching for his wand. He had taken the attack on Harry the previous night rather personally.

'No, Ron, no. It's fine.' He caught Ron's forearm to be sure that he wasn't going to draw his wand. The red head shot him a disappointed glare and Harry released his arm, 'Come on; you wouldn't want Moody to transfigure _you_ into a rodent, would you?'

At this, Ron grinned, looking back ahead to where Malfoy was turning into the Great Hall, 'Yeah, I suppose not. We'll get him later.'

Harry gave a vague nod of agreement, touched that Ron had taken the matter so personally and that he had not suggested telling any professor about the attack. Harry had hastily added his reasons for staying quiet at the end of recounting what had happened and Ron had been ready to agree with him. Better not play into Malfoy's hand, he had said… Better not give the spoiled prat what he wants… But there was the thing that had been stuck within the spirals of Harry's mind: What _did_ Draco Malfoy want?

After a good deal of internal conflict and the passing of a worrisome amount of time in which he was unable to discern anything from the screeching noise the egg made when he opened it, Harry decided to take up Cedric's offer. He hadn't mentioned it to Ron or Hermione, at least not in detail. Ron had remembered to ask what Cedric had wanted in the courtyard when they had sat down for lunch shortly after and Harry said truthfully that he just wanted to repay the hint Harry had given him about the dragons. Ron didn't question any more than that and Harry thought it was probably due to the fact that they were trying very hard to pretend they hadn't stopped talking before the first task; the best way to do that was to avoid mentioning anything that happened prior to their reconciliation.

Harry lay awake for hours, listening to the steady breathing and infrequent mumbles of the other boys in the dormitory. When he was sure that they were all too deeply asleep to notice him slipping off, he pulled his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map out from under his pillow and slipped out between the part of his curtains. He was careful this time to keep his cloak on the entire way to the prefect's bathroom; he wasn't going to invite another encounter with Malfoy.

By the end of his bath, he was thanking Cedric inwardly. The knot of snakes inside of his belly was loosening somewhat with the egg's noise finally deciphered. All that was left was finding out a way to breathe underwater for an hour and that could wait until morning. For now (since Moaning Myrtle had left for his apparent lack of tact), he was going to enjoy the remainder of the bubbles floating over the surface of the water, clouds on the glass of air. He moved to the side of the bath, supporting himself on the ledge of the floor as he pulled his towel closer and made sure the golden egg and his glasses were settled just beside it.

He heard the door open just as he was lowering back into the water. In the attempt to turn around and see who it was that had just stepped inside, his hands slipped from the ledge and he fell into the water, sputtering and gasping for air before he was able to regain his balance and locate the blurred outline of the other.

'Oh, it's just you.' Cedric's voice spoke from the hazy figure, growing larger as he stepped closer to the edge of the bath. 'I had thought you would have come before now.' His grin came into focus as Harry groped for his glasses and pressed them onto his face, 'Did you think I was taking the mickey about the egg and the water?'

'No, of course not - I just haven't had time -been doing other…' he paused, glancing up at Cedric's amused features, and offered a little shrug, 'Well, alright. I thought you were just being a prat, telling me to take a bath.' Even as he lowered self-consciously deeper into the water, thankful for the clouds of multi-colored bubbles still obscuring most of his lower body, he managed a weak, slightly apologetic smile. He was trying very hard not to look at Cedric; the older boy had entered with his waist wrapped in a towel, a bathrobe trailing off his shoulders.

Cedric laughed softly and the sound slipped down the walls, reverberating through the bathroom, 'I wondered if you would take me seriously.' Harry paled and slunk deeper into the water as he watched the bathrobe and the towel pile onto the floor around Cedric's bare feet. He continued speaking as he lowered himself into the water, 'So you've got it figured out, then?'

Harry decided that it was safe to look back to Cedric and gave a little nod that sent perfumed droplets of water over the lenses of his glasses. 'I have, yeah…' he watched as Cedric turned a couple faucets, replenishing the supply of bubbles to the surface of the water. 'Er- it's sort of late, isn't it?'

'Hm?' Cedric looked away from the faucets, a wreath of bubbles forming around his half-submerged form. 'Not too late for _you_ though, is it?' he grinned, twisting one of the knobs to stop the water flow, 'I just prefer coming in when no one else is here. It's quieter.'

He couldn't imagine how it would be all that difficult for a quiet bath in a bathroom shared only by prefects and Quidditch team captains but he gave another nod just the same. As he brushed a few sopping strands of black hair from his eyes, he replaced both hands on the ledge, ready to pull himself out of the water and into a towel. But a thought, potentially dangerous and incriminating, stopped his movements and he glanced back to the older boy. 'Cedric? Can – can I ask you something?'

Gray eyes shifted to meet green ones and Cedric's voice filled the room in a way the water could not; 'Go ahead.'

'Okay, well…' he skimmed the tops of the bubbles with a palm, 'Say that… you really hate someone. And they really hate you, but they kiss you.' He resisted the warmth creeping into his cheeks, 'What would you make of that?'

Cedric ran a hand over his chin, his full lips pursed in thought, 'I can't say that's ever happened to me but… well, I figure if you hate each other but you kiss, then it might not _really _be hate. Either that or someone's playing a rather cruel joke.'

Harry frowned slightly, frustrated to hear his own thoughts and Draco's words (more or less) repeated at him. The possibility of it just being a horrible, twisted, _sick_ joke of Malfoy's was probable and he was inclined to believe that explanation. And yet… His frown darkened as he stared into the water, oblivious to the fact that the rush of the water from the faucets had ceased, there was something, something embarrassing and knotted, in the pit of his stomach, something that wanted the kisses to be from something more than just a cruel joke. He hated himself for it. He didn't like Malfoy, he knew that. He hated the great, arrogant prat, loathed him even. But the kisses, those fondest of touches… they hadn't come from the Malfoy that he hated. Those slightly pink lips were not smirking when they kissed him, his voice was silenced, not drawling and icy, those steeled eyes that so often narrowed with menace were half-lidded and calm when the white-blond head had lowered to meet Harry's lips.

He had already known all this but thinking it, consciously letting the thoughts spill out in full form into the front of mind, was something he hadn't done before. It gave that something in his gut a violent twist and the redness of shame-touched realization crept slowly into his cheeks.

Remembering where he was thanks to a lazy splash of movement from Cedric, Harry gave a toss of his head, pressed his glasses closer to his face, and turned to clamber out of the bath. He had meant to climb out hastily (and he had certainly begun to do so) and snatch his towel from the floor to better conceal himself, but a hand, slick with soap and warm from the heat of the water, clasped his ankle before he was fully out.

The hand tugged, straightening his leg behind him, and Harry was pulled back into the water. He flailed blindly though the hand had released him, beneath the surface of the water, on which he could see the dull shapes of bubbles and the form of someone very near to him.

Harry resurfaced, gasping for the breath that he had lost in thrashing, and wiped the water from his glasses as he looked wildly around for the person that had grabbed him. His eyes focused on Cedric who was much closer than he had been before; the bathroom was still empty otherwise.

Something in Cedric's eyes, something that mirrored the something in Harry's gut, made Harry take a step back, his movements lethargic in the heavy water. 'Why did you do that, Cedric…?' his voice sounded timid and wavering to his ears but it steadied itself in the subsequent echoes.

Cedric moved closer, forcing Harry against the cool wall of the bath, 'I didn't want you to go, just yet.' The reply was simple; that unnamable something that was in the pewter haloes of Cedric's eyes was not apparent in his voice.

Beads of water rolled down from the soaked strands of Harry's hair, slipping into the verdance of his eyes, stinging and burning, but he didn't blink. Cedric's arms had placed themselves on either side of him, gripping the edge of the bath, pulling Cedric closer yet. Harry pressed himself against the wall, 'Why… didn't you want me to leave?' His heart was beating so violently that Harry was surprised not to see a ring of ripples emitting from his chest.

Besieging arms shifted as Cedric's shoulders lifted in a vague shrug, his eyes perusing the dripping features of Harry's face and the rest of him that was visible above the water. 'I think,' he mumbled, his head lowering slightly, 'That you oughtn't have mentioned kissing…' Cedric's full mouth pressed softly against Harry's lips; emerald eyes squeezed shut but Harry couldn't pull away, the wall and Cedric's frame had trapped him and his own limbs seemed reluctant to move.

Cedric moved one hand from the edge of the bath to fondly trace the curve of Harry's neck, lingering over the dip of his collarbone before slinking down along his chest, feeling the contours of his ribs. Harry made a small noise, one intended to be a sound of protest that came out as a stifled, fluttering moan instead, and this seemed to encourage Cedric. The lips pressed more firmly to Harry's which, much to their owner's surprise, responded, pursing against Cedric's smiling mouth, allowing teeth to draw in his bottom lip.

The hand paused just below Harry's navel, doting along the smooth, water-warmed flesh of his abdomen, and that sound, that inexplicable little airy moan escaped Harry's mouth, muffled against the kiss. And then Cedric's lips parted and there was something hot and moving inside of Harry's mouth. Cedric sighed softly through his nose and his fingertips dipped dangerously low; Harry didn't want to pull away, now – his own hands had lifted from the water to timidly peruse the lithe form of Cedric's shoulders.

There was a dull thud as the door of the bathroom closed. Harry's head jerked toward the sound and his hands darted back beneath the water, away from the expanse of Cedric's fair skin. Cedric looked slowly to the door and a smile crossed his features, 'Roger; hey.' His hands slipped away from Harry and he moved enough to allow Harry the room to move, 'You're up late.'

Harry, his eyes round and anxious behind the smudged lenses of his glasses, flickered between Cedric and Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain. Hastily, before Cedric could trap him again, Harry pulled himself out of the water and slid back from the edge, gathering his towel in both arms.

Though Davies had looked somewhat startled when he walked in, he seemed quite comfortable as he slipped into the water, 'Hey, Ced. Yeah – couldn't sleep, you know.' Davies grinned suddenly, pausing alongside one of the faucets, one hand over the knob, his eyes glancing to Harry who was fumbling with the towel, wrapping it around his waist, 'I didn't know you were into Potter.'

Cedric laughed softly, looking up to Harry who was reaching for the golden egg on the ground, 'Yeah, well… Don't tell anyone, will you? I think that's the last thing Harry wants.'

Harry, who had been moving swiftly toward the changing rooms, his face burning scarlet, paused at this. He could still feel Cedric's eyes on him but he didn't look back. Roger's reply echoed through the sound of running water right away, 'Course I won't tell, Ced. I haven't said anything before; I won't now.' There was the sound of rippling water and Harry assumed that Davies had turned to look back at him, 'Good luck with the next task, Potter.'

'Yeah, thanks…' It took a moment for him to find his voice and even then, all he could manage was a hushed sound; Harry risked a glance back at the older boys as he spoke. The rest of Cedric and Roger's conversation was lost behind the door of the changing room.

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And there's the fourth installment. Sorry it took so long in getting out there, and again, I promise there'll be more with Draco and his motives, later. I appreciate all the reviews I've gotten so far and would love more. Please submit any questions/flames/concerns/comments; I'm always happy to reply to signed reviews. Thanks for reading. (Just a note, Part Five will be much later in coming out, as I'll be away from my computer for the holidays. The first week of January should bring Part Five with it.) 


	5. Breaking Points

Years after the fact… Part Five. Pretty anti-climactic but hopefully the subsequent chapters will make up for it. Again, reviews make me happy. If anyone is still following this story from back in the day, you have my Valiant friend to thank for the fact that I am continuing. Enjoy!

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Part Five. Breaking Points.

The last stretch of time before the day of the second task streaked by faster than Harry thought possible. Caught somewhere between the task and his encounters with Cedric and Draco, his mind was constantly throbbing with an overabundance of conscience thought and focusing. He was irritable, tired, desperate for the answer to surviving the second task, and frustrated beyond comprehension that he couldn't devote his whole mind to finding it out.

When the task finally came with the answer of surviving (gillyweed, thanks Dobby), it seemed surreal. He hadn't expected to be able to do much more than wade out into the water and make a couple pitiful dives, much less gain any points for being successful. At any rate, he was incredibly relieved to have it over and done with, and what did it matter that he was a bit of an idiot (moral fiber) for saving that sister of Fluer's? The third task was far away and couldn't possibly be any worse than the first two. He even forgot to worry about Malfoy and his intentions for a couple days. Or at least until Double Potions with the Slytherins.

Being around Malfoy was barely tolerable but with fresh kindling to fuel the fire of Potter-mocking during Double Potions with Professor Snape, Harry was surprised that he was able to control himself as well as he did. Still, the blood was rushing in his head (both from his suspicion over Karkaroff and Snape and his barely checked anger) when he took off down the hall to catch up with Hermione and Ron.

He never quite made it out of the dungeons. It seemed that Malfoy had also fallen behind the trail of students leading back into the upper levels of the castle. It also seemed that Malfoy was much sturdier than his thin frame let on. Harry ran straight into Slytherin, colliding with him bodily, knocking shoulders, chests, and legs for an instant before they ricocheted off of one another.

Malfoy staggered back a step before catching himself on the cool, stone wall beside him. Harry, however, stumbled back and was dragged down by the weight in his bag and the spite of gravity. He landed heavily on his rear, wincing slightly at the flourish of stinging pain creeping up from his tailbone before the cold, drawling voice of Malfoy brought him out of his physical moment. 'Walk much, Potter?'

Harry pushed himself up off the ground with a violent gesture that sent little sparks of heated tension up his arms. His lips parted to speak but he found himself facing the tip of a wand, drawing him back to the last time they met alone. He pulled his lips closed again and leered angrily at Draco, balling his hands into fists; he wasn't going to let this be a repeat of the night of the Yule Ball.

'You're just asking for this, aren't you?' the words slipped out of Draco's sneering mouth, but Harry didn't give the paler youth a chance to go on.

Before Harry had registered the motion, one clenched fist found its way to Malfoy's cheek, striking hard against the fine arch of his cheekbone. Draco stumbled and dropped his wand in an effort to block another fist, this one aiming for his nose. A moment later, faces bearing the seeds of bruises and leaking little cuts, they were grappling with one another, Harry struggling to get Draco pinned to the wall so he could keep punching that pale, sneering, fucking beautiful face and Draco fighting to get Harry dislodged long enough to bend down for his wand.

Somewhere within the struggle for position, their feet became entangled and they toppled over onto the stone floor to vie again for the better angle to beat the other. Draco managed to get Harry onto the ground, restraining one hand with a pale one of his own while he stretched across the ground and lifted his wand from the stones. Panting for lost breath, he tucked the tip of his wand into the juncture of Harry's throat and jaw, pressing into the pulse and bringing Harry's struggles to a stop.

'Hell, Potter,' he breathed, splaying one palm over Harry's chest for support as he straddled his abdomen, 'You really must be losing your mind.' Harry tilted his head in an attempt to alleviate the pressure of the wand tip at his neck and looked resolutely away, refusing to meet the cold, grey, mocking eyes that were chilling the rest of him.

Draco bent over him slightly, leaning in closer, digging the wand tip deeper. And again, Harry found his body moving without his permission, before he could register and confirm the motion. He pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp bite of pain in his neck from the wand as he shifted against it, and he kissed Draco.

He was angry and frustrated; fed up with being mocked and confused, sick of being used by the pallid ferret, and tired of thinking about what it all meant. With none of the timidity he showed Cedric, Harry pressed his mouth firmly against Draco's, putting all of his frustrations into his lips and tongue and then feeding it to Malfoy. The paler boy had moved to pull away at first but soon there were fingers threading through the raven-dark locks of Potter's hair and the wand was no longer stabbing hard into his pulse.

It was as good as punching Draco. It was better than punching him. That thought, that revelation only doubled when Harry wrenched himself out of the devouring kiss and saw that Malfoy looked… confused. And not only confused, but dismayed at the broken contact of mouths.

Harry used the moment of bewilderment to push the blonde off of him, standing up shakily as he grabbed his schoolbag and slung it over his shoulder again. Just as Draco began to push himself up, Harry heard familiar laughter coming from farther down the corridor.

He turned his head in time to see Fred and George turning the corner into their corridor. Draco muttered something inaudible under his breath and, after snatching up his wand, walked quickly away in the opposite direction. Harry looked back to the twins as they stopped in front of him, George looking after Draco with narrowed eyes.

'All right, Harry?' Fred asked, looking from Harry's ragged appearance and the small cut on his lip.

Harry managed a nod as he swallowed, searching for words and the breath lost from his stolen kiss and brawling, 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.' He touched a hand to his lip, brought his fingers away with a faint dabbing of crimson, 'I think I got him better, anyway.'

Fred glanced aside to George, their faces both dressed in expressions of skepticism. 'Right, Harry,' George chimed in for his brother, patting Fred on the shoulder as they began to continue along the corridor, 'You know if you need him bloodied to a smaller pulp, we've got your back.'

There was a nod of agreement from the twin and Harry mumbled his thanks, touching at his lip again as he leaned down to retrieve his fallen pack. He didn't feel any better about his situation, about these traumatizing encounters with Malfoy (and Diggory); hitting the pale Slytherin had not alleviated his stress. Kissing him – that had helped Harry feel even with Draco. He had made a move that Draco hadn't counted on. Harry would deal with the implications later.

The same evening in the common room, Harry managed a moment of normality in recounting to Ron his brief fistfight with Malfoy. The recollection of this event shifted gradually each time he repeated it for various other Gryffindors in the Common Room, eventually gaining whispers of excitement that Malfoy was in the hospital wing and facing expulsion for some thing or another. Harry didn't bother correcting them, and steadily the Common Room emptied out as the students went to their dormitories.

There was a flicker of something in the fire and Harry, caught between sleep and wakefulness, jumped slightly in his chair and looked wildly around, eyes darting first to the empty chamber, dully lit by scarlet embers, then to the fireplace. Sirius' head reappeared there and Harry was suddenly reminded of the letter he had sent to his godfather weeks before.

Getting up out of his chair and scanning the Common Room again to be sure that it had cleared out, Harry made his way in front of the fireplace to kneel down before it, smiling at Sirius' disconnected head and receiving a tired, worried smile in return.

'Sirius, I thought you would write first, I didn't know - …how are you?' He had been on the verge of asking what had taken him so long to finally make contact but he figured he knew the answer already.

Sirius' head bobbed in the coals and the dark eyes glanced back at something hidden from Harry as the mouth spoke, 'As good as the Ministry will let me be. Your letter worried me, Harry. I had meant to get back to you before now but it's… been difficult trying to secure a fireplace long enough and nearly impossible to send out any owls without being noticed.' He paused, expecting Harry to delve immediately into the nature of his concern. When Harry did nothing but look awkwardly hesitant, Sirius prompted, 'What was it you needed to talk to me about? Seemed like a delicate matter.'

Harry cleared his throat, once again looked at the Common Room behind him, and leaned in closer to the fire, risking a good singe from the occasionally random sparks bursting from the embers, 'Er-' he paused, considering his words, considering making up something ridiculous and irrelevant to spare himself any embarrassment. Then he realized the risk his godfather was taking to check in on him and he stumbled through the events with Draco that had been causing him so much conflict, beginning with the kiss in the library and ending with that afternoon.

Sirius listened patiently as Harry blushed and stuttered his way through each encounter, his expression thankfully unbiased. When it was clear Harry had come to a stop, he spoke gently, knitting his brow and devoting what he could of the dark emptiness of his eyes to concern. 'You may not believe me, Harry, but I had a similar experience when I was in school. You have several choices but it comes down to how _you_ feel, not Malfoy. If you really do hate him – and you did seem a little defensive about that fact – then you can't let this get to you. Ignore him; whether he's trying to get to you or he does want you to reciprocate, ignoring him will thwart his advances.'

Sirius waited a moment, checking behind him again, before turning back to Harry with the other, lurking option, 'If… however… you think there's something there…' He trailed off with a tilt of his head that Harry took as a shrug.

Harry, still bearing a strange shade of scarlet around his cheeks, nodded as he spoke, 'Thanks, Sirius.' He frowned slightly, sighing through his teeth as he continued, 'I'm sorry I risked er-… sorry this is such a stupid thing.'

At that, Sirius laughed softly and his head shook, 'Don't be. But I should go. I think I heard something upstairs – best not get caught again.'

They exchanged brief goodbyes and Sirius' head disappeared from the embers, leaving Harry poised on his knees still, enveloped by a crimson glow. It was some time before he finally got up and went to bed, and even then his attempts toward sleep were foiled by racing thoughts. What _did_ he feel for Malfoy? He had been so sure of his animosity and yet he was unable to forget the lurch in his stomach at the graceful, beautiful image of Draco. Unable for forget his own intrigue and obsession with the matter. If he had feelings other than malice for Malfoy and confronted them, what would he lose?

* * *

And that's it for the fifth installment. Number six is… started. Hopefully it will be up within a few weeks, rather than a few years.


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